


Degrees Of Foolish

by Waysm



Category: Lies Told
Genre: M/M, nothos, spit is not a substitute for lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 22:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waysm/pseuds/Waysm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rove has to drum his fingers on the steering wheel to keep from stroking Lux’s thigh. He refrains only because triggering the half-breed now would not be conducive to staying alive in late night traffic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Degrees Of Foolish

Stopping Lux from killing Amon would be a good idea. 

It would be easier to _care_ about stopping Lux if the nothos half-breed wasn't justified in his anger. 

Amon’s been working as an informant to the police for months now, selling Lux’s secrets for immunity of his own crimes and smiling at Lux the entire time. Rove knew about Amon’s activities though he isn’t the one that hooked him up with Chicago PD. However, Lux’s anger won’t be a problem for him because ignoring Amon’s behavior doesn’t count as a betrayal on Rove’s end. Their system of mutual leniencies and benefits is a delicate one but they both understand it well and Lux won’t attempt to discipline him over something that Rove never guaranteed to protect him from. Rove wonders if Amon thought that system extended somehow to him, if he thought Rove would protect him because Amon’s playing nice with Rove’s fellow law enforcement. 

If so, Amon is a fool. 

Registry officers aren’t meant to condone criminal activity. But then, Rove should have killed Lux when they first met, when Rove was still field-green and Lux didn’t own most of Chicago’s underground, should have exterminated the taboo creature with the Oxford education and posh accent. And this is not the worst thing he’s witnessed Lux doing. He’s even helped the half-breed on occasion. When dealing with the dirty underbelly of a society, one has to be able to accept the necessity of evil, make allowances for it, and so Rove simply stands by. Stands by and watches Lux grab Amon and work his fingers around the man’s fragile jugular to _squeeze_. 

Slow deaths are Lux’s favorite. 

Rove finds them tedious, though the growl that explodes out of Lux’s throat and remains vibrating the air throughout the killing is interesting in ways that he thinks, given the setting, might make him as twisted as the half-breed. It isn’t a comforting thought, but he locks it away in case he decides to ever analyze his relationship with Lux and its affect on him, and refocuses himself on what is sure to happen next. Once the “hunt” is over and Lux needs to work his aggression out another way to feel truly satisfied in his ability to protect, to control, what’s his. Adjusting the crotch of his jeans, Rove smirks when Lux makes eye contact. Lux doesn’t look at his groin but his pleased snarl is indication enough that he’s eager to move to the next activity. 

Amon is released to crumple in an awkward pile of dead flesh. 

The drive to Lux’s renovated Victorian home is tense. Rove has to drum his fingers on the steering wheel to keep from stroking Lux’s thigh. He refrains only because triggering the half-breed now would not be conducive to staying alive in late night traffic. 

Once they’re walking toward the door of the house, Rove lengthens his stride, not to rub his greater stature in Lux’s face, but to give him his back. 

He makes it as far as the end of the foyer before Lux slams into him. 

The impact with the hardwood floor sends pain shooting into his chest, hips, and knees, but Lux is kind enough to keep his head from damage with one hand breaking its fall. The kindness doesn’t last long, Rove’s cheek pressed to the floor with firm guidance, a warning to stay put. 

Belt clinking open, his jeans are tugged down, the fabric bunching under his ass, his half-hard cock still trapped in the folds of denim. 

Rove isn’t foolish; he knows this isn’t for him. 

And so he appreciates the three spits Lux spares him before thrusting inside. Rove keens through the momentary pain and into a low groan. Pressing backward, he acknowledges Lux’s attempt at maintaining civility by actively participating in a raw rut at leaves him feeling battered open and falling apart in his gut and loins. Lux licks stripes up Rove’s spine with long drags of his tongue in response, fangs scraping over the back of his neck, gripping there with a firm pressure that flares the heat flashing through Rove’s body.

Keyed up, Lux doesn’t last for more than a few rough drives into Rove before he’s coming with a gurgled growl. Fangs dig deeper but don’t break skin. The hurt that signals forming bruises sinks into his hips when Lux kneels up and hauls him closer. One hand moves to tug his shoulders up. Moaning, Rove rises, following the directional push-pulls to his chest and arms that bring his face closer to Lux’s knowing, waiting smirk. 

It’s difficult to twist, to attempt to compact his body into a smaller space so he can accept what Lux is offering but its more frustrating to consider not receiving what, from Lux, is a gift and he grunts his annoyance into the air. 

He’s built solid, with a bulk that doesn’t allow for the flexibility Lux can accomplish with his wiry frame, and there’s a ridiculous wish for fewer bones in his ribcage so he could _reach_ better; and then their lips are brushing together, their tongues meeting in a slick slide that pulls his groin tight. 

His cock jerks. 

Thick arcs of come splatter across wood. The sound freezes his lungs, his vision going fuzzy and his body shuddering as numbness rolls through it. Awareness doesn’t return until his cheek is pressed to the floor once more. Huffed breaths strike his sticky flesh, Lux aligning their bodies limb to limb, settling with his nose in the joint of Rove’s neck and shoulder. 

Once Lux starts murmuring quiet notes of contentment, Rove doesn’t mind the ache centered in his ass and radiating into his hips.


End file.
